


The Pretty One

by SugarCrystal



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen, Humour, Request Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarCrystal/pseuds/SugarCrystal
Summary: Whilst the Dwarfers attempt to loot a derelict ship, Lister and Rimmer run into some trouble.





	The Pretty One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felineranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/gifts).



> Saw this post on Tumblr from felineranger: http://feline-ranger.tumblr.com/post/87495683587/i-want-a-fic-where-lister-and-rimmer-are-captured It's from a couple of years ago but as far as I can tell, no one ever wrote it and I thought the idea was funny, so I did.

The ship was an old freighter in an eye-melting shade of yellow which had once belonged to a long-extinct transport and shipping company. It was small for a ship, a fraction of Red Dwarf's size and not even enormous in comparison to Starbug, but it looked in reasonable condition and was probably worth a scavenging trip if it was safe to enter.  
The crew parked Starbug in the loading bay and carefully exited, eyes and ears peeled for any signs of inhabitants.

"No life signs detected, Sirs," Kryten announced, after checking the psi-scan. "It's deserted..., Structural integrity seems perfectly sound..., Yes, should be safe to proceed."  
There was a handy floor plan stuck to the wall by the lifts, Kryten rubbed the dust off and consulted it. "Only five floors in total, Sirs, and this one is mostly loading bay. So that leaves us with two floors upstairs and two below."

"Split up?" Lister suggested. "Two teams take two floors each?"

"I'm not going with him," said Rimmer instantly.

"I'm not going with you either, Goalpost Head."

"So," said Kryten, quickly leaping in to appease matters. "Mr Rimmer and Mr Lister will take the upper decks, Mr Cat and I will go below and we'll regroup back here in two hours. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Lister.

"Sounds good to me," said Rimmer amicably. 

"Lead on, Eraserhead," said Cat and followed Kryten into the nearest lift whilst Rimmer and Lister took the other one. 

 

"Right, Listy, let's go," said Rimmer, as the lift door dinged open on the next floor. "I'll take point."

"You'll what?" said Lister, baffled. "Oh! You mean you'll go first?"

"Military jargon, Listy," said Rimmer briskly as he set off down the corridor, torch in hand.

Lister shook his head and followed, shining his own torch around the walls and trying to judge the layout of the ship. Some of the interior was the same hideous yellow as the outside but most of it was grey. Ocean Grey, Lister noted and then felt annoyed with himself for being able to tell, he'd been hanging around Rimmer too long. An unexpected sound reached his ears, a metallic clanking noise, echoing slightly in the emptiness.

"What was that?" he spun around, looking for the source of the sound and managed to catch Rimmer directly in the eyes with his torch beam. "Did you hear something?"

"Probably just something old collapsing," Rimmer grumbled. "This ship is deserted. Stop wasting time."

Lister shrugged and they continued down the corridor. As they approached the corner, Lister reached out and grabbed Rimmer's arm, he had very clearly heard footsteps.

"Now what?" Rimmer complained loudly, his voice echoing around the metal corridors.

Lister tried to shush him but it was too late, a pair of simulant footsoldiers rounded the corner holding bazookoids. 

"Well, well, well...," they said in unison.

"What have we got 'ere, Ron?" asked one, rhetorically.

"Looks like a pair of troublemakers to me, Reg," said the second.

"I think you're right, Ron," agreed the first.

"And we don't like troublemakers around 'ere. Do we, Reg?"

"No, we don't, Ron. We don't."

"I think we ought to throw them in a cell, Reg."

"I think we ought to, Ron."

Lister stared in disbelief. These simulants clearly had a lot of time on their hands, he didn't think he'd ever heard a routine that was more obviously rehearsed.

The one called Reg, who had one human-looking eye and one red cybernetic eye, grasped Lister by the shoulder. The one called Ron, who had one green cybernetic eye and an eyepatch over the other, grasped Rimmer.

Reg raised his free arm and spoke into some sort of communicator device embedded in his wrist. "Boss? Caught a couple of intruders. One hard-light hologram, one human. Shall we throw 'em in the brig?"

A voice hissed and crackled through the device. "Intruders? Bring them here, let me see them." 

"Okay," said Reg and signed off. "This way, lads," he said cheerfully. "And don't give us any trouble." He gestured menacingly with his bazookoid.

"Or we'll shoot you," Ron clarified, in case they hadn't understood.

Lister had seen simulants who were psychotic and genuinely dangerous, simulants who were creepy and genuinely dangerous, simulants who were creepy or psychotic but stupid and simulants who were just plain stupid. These two were clearly in the last category. But they were also carrying functioning bazookoids and it seemed wise to just go along quietly for now. 

He held his hands up in a surrender gesture. "Okay, man, okay. We'll come quietly, just don't shoot anyone, yeah?" 

"Please," Rimmer added quickly. "I'm allergic to being shot."

 

Down on the bottom deck, Kryten was exploring the cargo hold with Cat following. The hold was filled with crates and shipping containers, none of which, from the labels, seemed to contain human supplies or fuel that was compatible with Starbug.

"Hmmm, nothing of any use so far, Sir," mused Kryten.

"Any hairgel?" Cat asked hopefully. "Hot wax? Cuticle cream? Eyeliner?"

"No, Sir. It's an industrial freighter, they didn't carry beauty products."

"Shampoo?" Cat tried as a last resort. He already had plenty of shampoo but wouldn't turn down more if it presented itself. 

"Not as cargo, Sir. That would be in the bathrooms." Kryten continued walking, shining his torch around. "Any WD-40 maybe?" he wondered. He paused in front of a hopeful looking crate and attempted to prise open the lid but it turned out to be rusted shut.

"Hey, Novelty-Condom-Head," hissed Cat. "Can you hear something?"

"What sort of something, Sir?"

"Like a something-moving-about something. I thought you said this place was deserted."

Kryten looked doubtful and then started playing around with the psi-scan again. "Ah, well this model is notoriously unreliable," he admitted. "I'll just try again and see if it can detect anything this time." The psi-scan began an urgent bleeping and Kryten checked the results and nodded sagely. "Ah, there's the problem, Sir. The psi-scan was only searching for organic life before and none was detected. It's now picking up some non-organic signals." He paused to digest that information. "....Oh dear."

"Those simulant dudes?"

"In all likelihood, Sir, yes." Kryten consulted the psi-scan. "Ten non-organic signals detected so far, Sir. Of course, one of them may be me, I'm not sure if it's picking up...,"

"Well, what should we do?" Cat interrupted.

"I would suggest we take a swift walk back in the direction of Starbug, Sir."

"I can go with that plan, buddy."

As they turned to leave, a small bot on caterpillar tracks trundled towards them out of the shadows, making whirring noises.

Cat stared as it extended a probe, which twitched in their direction. "What the hell's that?" he demanded.

"I think it's some sort of scouter, Sir. It's probably intended to alert the occupants to our presence." Kryten leant over to it and made shooing motions. "Get out of here! Go away!" 

The scout started to make bleeping noises and a small red light on the end of the probe began flashing.

"Go away!" Kryten tried again. "Shoo!"

Cat picked up a small piece of metal piping and threw it down the corridor over the scout's head. "Fetch!" he tried.

The scout turned its probe in the direction of the thrown pipe, bleeped again, and then trundled off down the corridor after it.

"Oh well done, Sir," said Kryten. "Quick, let's get out of here before it comes back."

 

Lister and Rimmer found themselves frogmarched down a corridor to a large door, one of the soldiers palmed it open and they were dragged inside. This room appeared to have been the drive room when the ship was still operational, Lister noted, now it was filled with junk and most of the control panels seemed to be broken.  
What could only be the simulant captain, a hulking brute with a glowing power source in the middle of his chest and a bundle of wires coming out of his head, was sitting in a large chair in the middle of the room.

He raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. " _Interesting_...," he breathed. He reached out a finger and beckoned. "Bring them closer." He had a raspy voice with a slight hiss to it, the sound Lister had mistaken for signal interference over the communicator was apparently a fault in his circuits. Lister and Rimmer were pushed towards him and he reached out and clasped Lister under the chin, cupping his face in fat, greasy fingers.

Lister shook him off in disgust. "What do you want with us, man?" he demanded.

"Now look here, miladdio," said Rimmer officiously. "Under article 57184327/F of the...,"

"Your human regulations mean nothing to us, hologram," replied the captain. 

Lister sighed. " _I_ could have told you that, Rimmer." Still, the captain looked faintly amused and Lister decided to try and negotiate. "Look, man, we didn't mean nothing. We honestly didn't know this was your ship, we thought it was deserted. Why don't you just let us go and we'll leave and stop bothering you."

"Let you go?" the captain repeated with a rather evil smile. Reg chuckled with amusement and the captain reached out a hand and ruffled his hair.

"Yes please, if you don't mind. Your Magnificence, Sir, " Rimmer blurted out, his brief show of bravado already gone again.

"Yeah, and.., and we'll go away and leave you alone," Lister reiterated, starting to get worried.

"I don't think so," the captain smirked. "We may have _uses_ for you later." 

Lister and Rimmer looked at each other. "Wha.., whaddya you mean 'uses'?" Lister asked warily. 

"Who knows?" the captain rasped. "But I'm sure you could provide us with some sort of sport." He smiled evilly as his eyes wandered over Rimmer's body. "Hard light holograms are especially durable, after all."

Lister didn't like the sound of that at all, especially when Reg and Ron joined in with sniggering. "I'm not scared of you, man. You can't frighten me," he insisted, not entirely truthfully.

"You can't frighten me either," Rimmer added. "I'm too scared already."

The captain gazed at them, apparently captivated. "This defiance is..., _intriguing_ ," he purred. "I think we'll have a little fun with them later, we'll soon see how long they remain defiant. Take them to the cells for now."

"You'll never take us alive!" Lister shouted after him as they were dragged away and then wondered why he'd said that.

"Why did you say that?" Rimmer queried as they were manhandled down a corridor.

"I dunno," Lister admitted. "I had to say something and it was the first thing that came to mind. It is kind of cheesy, isn't it?"

"More to the point, they already have taken us alive, you goit!"

The simulants hauled them into the lift and up to the next floor where the corridor was lined with doors. Reg palmed open the nearest door and Lister and Rimmer were firmly pushed inside, the door closing behind them.  
The simulants had apparently turned this room into a holding cell for prisoners but it had clearly started life as a bunk room, it still contained two bunks and a bathroom area but the rest of the fixtures had been stripped out. There was only one working light left, creating a gloomy look.

Rimmer sat on the bare mattress of the lower bunk and looked at Lister. "Well? Now what are we supposed to do?"

Lister's watch buzzed and Kryten's voice came through. "Mr Lister, are you there, Sir?"

"Yes, Krytes?"

"This ship is occupied, Sir. It's been appropriated by simulants."

"We know, you goit," said Rimmer irritably. "We've just been captured and thrown in a cell."

"Ah," said Kryten worriedly. "Mr Cat and I are back on Starbug. If there is anything of salvageable value on this ship, it hardly seems worth the risk to try and obtain it. Do you want us to wait, Sir, or should we come and look for you?"

Lister paused to think. "Stay where you are for now, Krytes," he decided. "We'll try and escape by ourselves. If we can't, I'll contact you."

"Understood, Sir. I'll be on standby."

"And how exactly do you intend to escape?" demanded Rimmer. "That door doesn't open from this side and you've got nothing to shoot it open with."

"I'll think of something," Lister insisted.

"Oh, of course. Don't worry, Rimsy, Listy's on the case. Forgive me if I don't brim over with confidence." He rolled over onto his back, folded his hands behind his head and glared at the underside of the top bunk.

Lister fished his Swiss army knife out of his pocket, grateful the simulants were too incompetent to frisk him and confiscate it, and attempted to jimmy the door open with the large blade.

 

"So, what do we do now, Metal Mouth, just sit here and wait?" Cat demanded.

"For now, Sir, yes," Kryten agreed. "Mr Rimmer and Mr Lister should be joining us shortly, we'll need to be ready to take off the moment they get here."

"Fine, I'm going to have a nap," Cat decided.

 

Lister swore as the knife slipped and sliced his thumb. He pulled off his bandana and wrapped it around the injury as a makeshift bandage. Clearly this wasn't going to work, there wasn't enough clearance between door and frame to insert the blade, he'd have to try something else. "Alright!" He spun around to face Rimmer, clapping his hands together in determination. "What have we got?"

"Now what are you yammering about?"

"What have we got in this room?" Lister repeated, looking around purposefully. "What can we use to rig something up to escape? Let's make an inventory."

"Two mattresses, half a loo roll, one working lightbulb and three dead ones," Rimmer listed. "All yours, McGyver."

Lister gave up for now and clambered into the top bunk. "I'll think of something," he insisted.

"Well, just do it before Dumb and Dumber come back," Rimmer grumbled.

 

Cat removed his jacket to avoid creasing it and curled himself into his seat. He was asleep within seconds, dreaming of a swimming pool filled with fish and lady cats.

Kryten waited in his seat behind, his leg jiggling nervously. He was worried about Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer, especially Mr Lister, but he'd been given clear instructions to stay on Starbug unless he was contacted. He noticed his jittering leg and tried to stamp the jitter out of it, it didn't work. He decided to run through his memory banks and re-organise his files to relax his mind and keep himself occupied, it was better than worrying. His leg gradually relaxed as his brain dedicated itself to sorting, filing, categorising and discarding the occasional superfluous piece of information, though he was careful to keep enough of his mind free to listen out for any incoming calls from Mr Lister.

The minutes ticked by.

 

"It's getting late," the simulant captain remarked. He slowly hauled himself out of his chair, his circuits fizzing and crackling at the strain of moving. "I'll be in my quarters." A slow smirk spread across his face. "You know, those prisoners..., Maybe it's time to have a little fun...," He ran his tongue lasciviously over his upper lip. "Bring me the pretty one. Preferably conscious."

Ron sniggered and Reg licked his own lips in anticipation. "Can I watch?"

The captain glared at him. "No!"

 

Lister was lying on his back in the top bunk, working on a plan that involved cutting one of the mattresses open with his knife and extracting the springs. The trouble was, he wasn't sure what to do with the springs once he'd got them. He regretted the fact that he and Rimmer had lost their torches at some point, though he wasn't really sure what he could have constructed out of two torches either.

The cell door suddenly clanged open, making them both jump, and the soldiers reappeared. 

"Oh good, it's the Two Stooges," said Rimmer. "This is just getting better and better."

Lister jumped down from his bunk to face them. "Okay, guys. What's going on?"

"He wants the pretty one," Ron grunted.

"The _what_?!" said Lister.

"The pretty one," Ron repeated. "He wants him."

"Er..., for what purpose exactly?" asked Rimmer carefully. 

Lister sighed. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Yes," Rimmer replied. "But I'm hoping I'm wrong."

"Just come quietly," Ron threatened, pointing his bazookoid. "Don't give us no trouble."

" _Any_ trouble," Reg corrected, exasperated. "What have I said about using double negatives? It makes you sound thick." His hands closed firmly around Lister's shoulders just as Ron stepped forward and grabbed Rimmer.

"What you doing, Ron? He said the pretty one."

"Well, this is the pretty one."

"No, this one is. Look at his face."

Lister and Rimmer looked at each other with 'What the hell?!' expressions.

"Yeah, that's one's cute but this one's prettier," Ron insisted. "Look at his jawline."

"Look at his _nose_ ," Reg countered.

"What's wrong with my nose?" demanded Rimmer.

Lister couldn't help sniggering despite the situation. "You really wanna know, man?"

"That one's got a cute face but look at the state of his hair," Ron pointed out. 

Lister changed his tune immediately. "Oi," he protested. "I'm very fond of these locks."

"But he's short too," Reg insisted. "That probably counts for something." Lister was feeling more insulted by the second.

"Nah, he definitely meant the hologram," Ron insisted, letting go of Rimmer's shoulders. "I mean, he said...," he paused to remember the captain's exact words. "No, he didn't, actually...,"

"Now look, Ron," said Reg, not unkindly. "Who's the brains of this outfit?"

"Well clearly, neither of you," said Rimmer but Lister was the only one who heard him.

"Yeah, but you was wrong last time. When you started shouting racial slurs at them GELFs and it turned out he wanted us to shoot 'em."

"Well, what'd he say 'terminate them with extreme prejudice' for?" Reg scowled. "That's what it sounds like." He irritably let go of Lister, who quietly sidled over to Rimmer.

"Okay, think about it like this," Ron suggested. "What does he normally consider pretty?"

"Good thinking!" said Reg. "Erm..., I dunno."

"Yeah, me neither. Look, maybe we should just call him and ask?"

"No! That's gonna makes us look dumb."

Lister gently kicked Rimmer on the ankle to get his attention and indicated the wide open door with his head. Both simulants were too busy arguing to pay any attention to them or to the door. Rimmer nodded and they both carefully sidled out. Lister tried palming the door closed behind him and was relieved to see it worked, apparently the simulants were too stupid to activate the "authorised palm prints only" option. 

"Oi!" demanded an irate sounding Reg from inside.

"Run!" Lister barked and they took off in the direction of the lifts. "Kryten!" he yelled into his watch. 

On Starbug, Kryten jumped into immediate alert. "Yes, Sir?"

"We're on the way, be ready to take off."

"Already am, Sir." He set about trying to wake the Cat.

As they ran down the corridor, a klaxon went off accompanied by a red flashing light. "Smeg!" Lister cursed. 

Another simulant rounded the corner. "Halt!" he shouted, levelling his gun at them.

Lister spun around on one leg and used the other to kick at a stack of empty oil drums, sending them crashing down. The simulant dropped his gun and used both arms to cover his head as the drums crashed around him. 

"Nice shot!" said Rimmer. He grabbed Lister's arm and yanked him into the first lift to arrive. "Let's go."

They leapt out of the lift on the loading bay floor. Starbug was a few metres away, engines already humming, ready for take-off.

Another soldier, this one female, burst out of the second lift and fired her gun at them but missed completely. She swore and paused to reload as Lister and Rimmer ran for Starbug.

Kryten had left the door open ready. They charged up the gangplank and Lister hit the door controls behind them, just as a scouter emerged from the lift carrying a small piece of metal pipe in its claws.

 

"Well, that was lucky," Rimmer remarked as they collapsed, relieved, into the living area. "Good thing one of them was too stupid to realise I'm the pretty one."

"What d'ya mean?" Lister demanded, trying to catch his breath. " _I'm_ the pretty one. It was your one who was wrong."

"Oh, Listy, you wish," smirked Rimmer.

"There you are, Sirs!" Kryten interrupted. "Ready for take off?"

"Good idea, Krytes," Lister agreed. 

Kryten hurried back into the cockpit. "Ready to go, Mr Cat, Sir."

Lister turned back to Rimmer. "Excuse me?" He pointed towards his own face for emphasis. "Have you _seen_ this face?"

"Yes, I have, Dormouse-Cheeks, and there's no way he meant you."

"Oh, so he meant you, Grand-Canyon-Nostrils?"

Rimmer's nostrils flared. "I wouldn't call you pretty in three million years, miladdo."

"Wouldn't you?" Lister smirked, remembering a certain fishnet-wearing version of Rimmer.

"No, I wouldn't," Rimmer scowled, having no idea what Lister was talking about. "And I doubt any simulants would either."

"I was the one whose face he grabbed," Lister remembered.

"And I was the one he said was durable," Rimmer countered.

"That could have meant anything," Lister dismissed. "Maybe he meant you'd last a long time being tortured or something."

"You really think your chubby face is prettier than these chiseled features?" Rimmer pouted.

"With your nose, yes," Lister smirked back.

"And your ratty hair is any better, is it?"

"The one who grabbed you had one false eye and one eyepatch," Lister pointed out triumphantly. "He probably couldn't see too well."

"What are you talking about, you goit? Cybernetic eyes see better than human eyes, he could see perfectly."

"I've set a course away from this place, Sirs," Kryten interrupted again, as he and the Cat reappeared. "No one seems to be following us."

"Kryten, man, settle a dispute." Lister gestured back and forth between himself and Rimmer. "Which of us two is prettier?" 

"You are, Mr Lister, Sir," said Kryten instantly.

"Brutal!" Lister smirked triumphantly.

"Naturally, I have to side with the human."

"Well, then that doesn't count," crowed Rimmer. "Cat, what do you think?"

"Are you kidding? You're both as ugly as a traffic accident!" Cat grinned smugly. "There's only one pretty face around here and his name is C.A.T."

"Yes, I should have known you'd say that," Rimmer grumbled. "Well, I guess we'll never know, will we?"

"Why are we arguing about it anyway?" Lister realised. "Do we _want_ to be raped by hulking great simulants with dodgy wiring?"

"Well, no, I suppose not, when you put it like that," Rimmer agreed. 

Subject apparently dropped, Rimmer dug out his half-finished project of writing out the cockpit shift rota as an official colour-coded timetable and settled down at the table to finish it whilst Lister folded himself into the least uncomfortable chair and opened a guitar magazine.

"He still meant me," they both muttered under their breaths in unison.


End file.
